


Bedfellows

by thesparklingone



Series: For Then, For Now, For Always: Estimeric Week 2020 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Estimeric Week (Final Fantasy XIV), Estimeric Week 2020, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesparklingone/pseuds/thesparklingone
Summary: This was the first night he had ever shared a tent with Estinien, the first night of their redeployment within their new unit since their previous one had been slaughtered by a dragon in the Western Highlands.(Written for the Day 1 prompt "Firsts.")
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: For Then, For Now, For Always: Estimeric Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872139
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59
Collections: Estimeric Week 2020





	Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Estimeric (and patch!) Week everyone! I'm so excited to be participating and I do hope you enjoy. Please check out the twitter account for more if you haven't already! https://twitter.com/estimericweek1

Ser Aymeric de Borel could not sleep and had resigned himself to the fact. Oh, he was well aware of the many approaches that might be taken to remedy the situation. Counting sheep. Counting breaths. Reciting swordwork stances in his mind. Reciting boring passages of the Enchiridion in his mind. Unfortunately, he was quite certain that none of those techniques would avail him, for his insomnia had an external cause. ‘Twas in fact the fault of his comrade, fellow knight, and, as fate would have it, tent mate, one Ser Estinien, who was, Aymeric noted with no small amount of envy, currently sound asleep himself, and snoring to wake the dead.

Indeed, a dragon would be impressed by the sound this man was making. Aymeric half wondered how they had yet to attract all the wolf population of the Central Highlands considering the noise. Then again, mayhap the wolves too thought it a great wyrm that slumbered here and thus kept their distance. Were that the case, ‘twould perhaps somewhat make up for the rest the ruckus was costing him. That their unit was being kept safe from a midnight beastkin attack by one young lancer’s horrid bed manners made for an amusing and enjoyable imagining.

Right now Aymeric had much need for imaginings both amusing and enjoyable.

He sighed in resignation. This was the first night he had ever shared a tent with Estinien, the first night of their redeployment within their new unit since their previous one had been slaughtered by a dragon in the Western Highlands. Aymeric well remembered Ser Theriault’s—may Halone rest his soul—bitter complaints about Estinien’s sleep habits, but, he would admit to himself with rue, Ser Theriault had been wont to complain of many things, and Aymeric had assumed him exaggerating.

He sent a silent prayer to the Fury that Ser Theriault would forgive him his faithlessness in the afterlife, for he now knew the knight to have been telling only the most unvarnished truth.

Estinien was a _terrible_ bedfellow.

And he was not simply a noisy one, oh no, that would not be nearly enough of a trial to endure on its own, Aymeric reasoned. In addition, he was a restless one, periodically thrashing about in his bedroll, throwing sharp elbows into Aymeric’s ribs. Earlier in the night Aymeric had rolled onto his side, facing away, hoping that by reducing his body’s footprint upon the ground he might therefore avoid Estinien’s periodic slumbering kicks and jabs. He had taken a knee in the small of his back for that, and would not make the same mistake twice.

He really would have to speak with Estinien about it the following morning, Aymeric thought, though… what was he, really, to do about it? A man could not control himself in sleep so even if Estinien felt badly about being the cause of such disturbance—and Aymeric had his doubts that he would—it was unlikely that a solution existed, beyond one of them simply sleeping outside. However, now that he considered it… the idea had its merits. For now, at least. ‘Twas summer in Coerthas and the weather was mild. During an autumn or winter deployment, of course, such a thing would not be possible. But, mayhap as a stopgap, it could be a potential solution. After all, if this were to be his every night during the entirety of their eight-week assignment… Aymeric shuddered. He would go mad. He would pass out mid-march and collapse, toppling forward onto his face like a jester at the summer faire. No, the situation was just simply untenable. He made a note to himself to speak of it to Captain Alsoix in the morning.

Beside him, Estinien inhaled a particularly long and obnoxious rumbling snort, and Aymeric felt his patience slip. Just a little.

Fueled by a violent surge of irritation that was quite unlike him, he elbowed his fellow Temple Knight in the side, as hard as he could.

Estinien hiccoughed mid-snore, and was silent.

Aymeric held his breath. Could… could it be? Had it… _worked?_

Alas, he had hoped too soon, for though the snoring did not restart, the thrashing did. Estinien wiggled in his bedroll like a fish in a net, kicked Aymeric in the ankles, then rolled over and—by the _Fury_ —pressed himself into Aymeric’s side.

And then he was still.

Aymeric suddenly found himself even wider awake then before.

What in Halone’s hallowed name was he supposed to _do?_ He lay on his back, eyes wide and unseeing in the dark, tense as the string on his bow. Beside him, curled around his arm like, like, like some… _companion_ was his assigned unit partner and fellow Temple Knight.

It was _profoundly_ awkward. Only for Aymeric, though, because Estinien, Fury _bless him_ , was still asleep.

Now, there was a certain degree of inevitable intimacy involved in being a soldier, Aymeric knew that well already. Communal baths, shared barracks. The need to relieve oneself and change and dress wounds while on deployment. All of it meant that you quickly lost your bashfulness when it came to bodies, either your own or others’. Inevitably, you were going to see your comrades either partially or completely unclothed, and they were going to see you. ‘Twas simply how it went.

But there were _boundaries_. There was _decorum_. There were things that _just were not done_ and _nighttime cuddling in the tent_ was _definitely_ one of them.

At the thought, Aymeric’s own musing from just a few minutes ago returned to haunt him: a man could not control himself in sleep. However discomfited Aymeric found himself in the moment, ‘twas not Estinien’s fault. Not his conscious, intentional fault, at least. And Aymeric did have to admit that he had, in fact—in that “be careful of it” manner of the old adage—gotten what he wished for. Estinien remained… placid. Calm. _Mercifully silent_.

And, frankly, rather pleasantly warm. The thought made Aymeric blush, but he could not deny it.

Well, then. There seemed to be nothing for it. He was going to strive to make the most of the mixed blessing that Halone had seen fit to bestow upon him. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. He focused on his breath, inhaling to a count of ten, then exhaling for the same. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

Aymeric felt himself starting to drift.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Estinien sighed sweetly in his slumber, nuzzling against Aymeric’s shoulder. Strands of his long, silver hair whispered along Aymeric’s neck. Aymeric tensed, alert again, momentarily annoyed, but… in all honestly, _that_ was not unpleasant, either. Estinien did have rather lovely hair, come to think of it.

_Inhale._

_Exha—_

Estinien threw his leg over Aymeric’s, and conscious thought entire fled him.

For what felt like an eternity, he knew nothing, save this: the soft press of the man next to him, the gentle tickle of his breath, the strong, shapely leg tenderly sliding against his own.

A single thought at last arose in poor Aymeric’s addled, insomniac mind:

_Fuck._

He was never going to get any sleep, ever, ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> In the future, Estinien will prevent Aymeric from sleeping for other reasons. :3


End file.
